


Revenge

by Sir_eggy (orphan_account)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anonymous Villain - Freeform, BAMF Stiles, Betrayal, Betrayed Scott McCall, But that’s no excuse for who he killed :(, Car Accidents, Deception, Derek Has Issues, False Accusations, Flashbacks, Guns, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Kitsune, Memories, Murder, Nemeton, Original Character(s), Plot Twists, Post-Nogitsune, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, RIP Allison Argent, Reincarnation, Romance, Sad Ending, Spirits, Supernatural Creatures, Surprise Ending, Violence, Werecoyote Malia Tate, Werewolves, minor Stiles Stilinski/Lydia Martin, minor Stydia - Freeform, stab wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:22:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26672104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Sir_eggy
Summary: A new creature has risen in the town of Beacon Hills. A Dybbuk, a dead sinner in the body of it's reincarnated self, is causing chaos in the supernatural infested town. Scott and the Pack form a plan, but... It was someone they knew. Someone close to them.OK I suck at summaries I swear its better than it sounds.
Relationships: Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura
Comments: 21
Kudos: 16





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Explanation: The dreams are anonymous, because the person dreaming is the Dybbuk, and I don't want to reveal their identity until chapter 9. The dreams are from 50 years prior, and are the Dybbuk's memories. Or the Dybbuk's memories from when he was alive. The girl is his partner. I won't reveal her name until the last chapter for MyStErIoUsNeSs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 50 years before the story takes place...

_He held onto her lifeless body tightly, bringing her as close to his chest as possible, as if it would tether her to the world of the living. She didn't move, only stared, unseeing, into an abyss nothing that he could not see._

_His lip trembled, his eyes burned, flooding like and ocean. His throat tightened and he sob tore from his throat at the feeling of her loss, a great void in his yearning heart._

_He didn't try to fool himself with hope or feeble wishes. He wasn't one to deceive._

_He knew, with all his heart, that she was gone._

_His love, his life, his light in the dark, dark world._

_He knew she was dead. And he knew who had killed her._

_For a minute, he had been happy. But in a minute, he'd lost it all._

_Rain began to fall, dropping onto her face and trailing clean lines over her bloodied skin._

_In the night, he screamed, a word of hatred, a word of death._

_A word of revenge._

_"_ _ARGENT!"_

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've actually planned this story out, which is a HUGE surprise to even me 😂😂 Update will be up soon :))


	2. Remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a lot of false information about the Dybbuk. I made a lot up to fit with the storyline.  
> Also, multiple POVs.

_50 years later..._

"What is it?"

Scott and Stiles stood side by side in the clinic, slightly dirtied from mud and dirt. The Pack, Scott, Stiles, Derek, Lydia and Kira, (Malia was with her dad) had been training in the woods by the Hale house when they'd gotten the call from Deaton.

"Well, I can't know for sure. Not yet, anyway. I have my suspicions, and as much as I wished they weren't true, I believe I am right."

The Pack waited for him to elaborate with raised eyebrows and curious eyes. He didn't.

Stiles threw his hands up, exasperated.

"And? Care to fill us in, or should we just go in blindly and hope we make it out alive?"

Deaton fixed him a cool and calm glare. "I believe it's a Dybbuk."

Stiles' expression changed from irritated to something Scott couldn't distinguish. 

"What? You know something about this 'dibbik?'" He asked, nudging him with his elbow.

"A Dybbuk," Deaton corrected.

Stiles shook his head, but Scott suspected otherwise.

Deaton took an old piece of paper from his pocket and turned it around, showing it to them. It portrayed a blurb of information, another language, and a picture of a man, his face contorted as he screamed to the sky.

"A Dybbuk is, from the folklore of the cabala, a soul of a dead sinner. They are evil, some of the most malicious spirits I've ever read of. They usually had a reason to sin, to do the horrible things they did. They fester over time, and when their human body has been reincarnated, they transmigrate into the body of themselves."

Scott shuddered, glancing warily at Stiles. He saw the others do the same, some not as subtle as others.

Stiles seemed unfazed by the spirit in human shebang, and Scott allowed himself to hope Stiles was finally getting past the Nogitsune.

"So you're saying," Kira started, speaking for the first time. "Someone in Beacon Hills has been reincarnated, and will be possessed by a spirit version of themselves?"

Deaton nodded. "That's basically what I'm saying."

"So?" Lydia asked. "What do we do?"

"We'll have to find a way to kill it," the vet replied, folding the paper back up and slipping it into his pocket.

Stiles crossed his arms, scowling. " _'Find_ a way?' You're saying we don't know how to face this thing?"

"No, not yet. I'm hoping to find something among my Cabala folklore books." He pointed to a row of five or six books on the top shelf of the open cabinet. "I'm sure there will be something in them. I'll notify you all as soon as I find something."

Scott nodded. "Thanks, Deaton." He glanced at his watch, eyes widening. "Stiles, we gotta go, we're going to be late."

Stiles' eyes jumped from the books to Scott, and he nodded, grabbing his keys off the table and following Scott out without a word. Derek left soon after.

Lydia, put on her jacket and walked to the door with Kira. "Thanks, Deaton!" She said over her shoulder.

*** Scott ***

The Dybbuk had been on Scott’s mind a lot recently. He could barely concentrate on his school work, and he knew he had to do better than last year if he wanted to stay on the a Lacrosse team.  
  
Stiles had been pretty distracted recently, too. And quiet, which was a strange change. The Nogitsune had done it’s damage, but Stiles had been getting better before this week. Now, the Dybbuk seemed to have him more worried.

“You okay, dude?” He asked at lunch, when Stiles’ tapping on the table got a bit too much for him.

“Yeah, why?” Stiles replied, his tapping continuing.

Scott didn’t need to say anything, he just looked at his fidgeting.

Stiles stopped, looking slightly ashamed. “I’m just worried about my dad. That’s all.”

Scott nodded. Stiles was always worried about his father. 

He looked across the table where Lydia, Malia and Kira were sitting. Lydia had a look of concentration on her face, Malia just looked bored, and Kira seemed to be just as worried as Stiles.

“It’s someone we _know,_ " she said, biting her lip. "What if it’s... what if it’s one of our parents? Or one of our friends? What would we do then?”

Scott shook his head. “I don’t know. Reason with them?”

Stiles sighed, looking up at them. “Deaton said they’re pretty big on revenge. I doubt they’d _listen_ to reason.” He paused for a moment, then clapped Scott on the shoulder. “Just remember you can’t save everyone.”   
  
Scott would. After Allison, he’d remember that.

But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try.

*** Lydia ***

Lydia nodded at Stiles statement. “And it’s not your fault if someone dies,” she added softly.

Scott grimaced, but nodded.

She was about to say something else when something caught her eye. Someone was staring at her.

She glanced quickly to where the person had been, but no one was there.

Lydia tried not to shudder.

*** Anonymous ***

_He was dreaming._

_A candle was lit in front of him, emitting a soft glow over the two of them._

_They sat across from each other, legs folded in front of them, the candle dancing between them._

_He smiled at her, lost in her eyes. She was so beautiful, so radiant in the candle's light, and when she smiled back he knew she was the one._

_He reached over the candle, taking her soft hand in his own. Being with her made him so happy, so content._

_Wind whistled in the dark forest around them. The flame flickered in the wind, dancing alone on the candlestick, before it disappeared, throwing them into a curtain of complete and utter darkness._

_Only then did he realise, these were not his dreams._

_These were not his memories._

_These were the Dybbuk's._


	3. Ruined

Scott received another call from Deaton, telling him to get there after school, so Stiles and Scott went passed the vet on the way home.

"What happened?" Scott asked when they entered the clinic.

Deaton shook his head. "I came to begin my research on the Dybbuk, but the books were gone from my cabinet. I looked around, and found them in the sink."

Deaton led them to said sink, where a pile of ashes and tattered leather sat.

Scott quickly recognized the singed books as those of the Cabala collection.

"Someone burnt them?" Stiles asked. "Why?"

"I don't know," Deaton replied. "I can't imagine why anyone would know about these. Or know to burn them now that the Dybbuk is here."

Scott stared at the books thoughtfully.

"But that's not all," Deaton continued. He picked up a small note on the counter and handed it to them. "Whoever did this left a note."

Stiles and Scott exchanged a nervous look before Scott reached out and took it. They both leaned over the small note, reading the words.

_'Don't meddle in things you don't understand.'_

"So, something is protecting the Dybbuk?" Scott asked, handing the note back.

"Or," Stiles countered, "this _is_ the Dybbuk."

"Either is plausible," Deaton agreed. "I would suggest, since you are both involved, that you protect your parents." Deaton opened a cupboard below the sink. He pulled out two containers and two silver flasks and handed them each one.

"This," he said, holding up the container, "is salt. Line it in front of all entrances to your house- doors, windows, vents, everything. It will keep spirits out, including the Dybbuk. And this, this is holy water. It harms spirits and can ward them off for time to escape. Give them to your parents."

Stiles and Scott took them gratefully.

*** Scott ***

Scott informed his mother about the Dybbuk, but she seemed mostly unbothered.

"I really don't think all of this is necessary," she said as Scott lined a window in the kitchen.

"It is. This thing is dangerous, and it could go after you or someone else to stop _us_ trying to stop _it_."

She sighed, shaking her head. "You kids. I've said it once, and I'll say it again. You kids shouldn't be involved in all this."

Scott shrugged. "But we are. So we need to do something."

She smiled at him, and Scott thought it was pride.

*** Stiles ***

The Sheriff crossed his arms, eyebrow raised, as Stiles lined the front door.

"And how is _salt_ going to keep an angry spirit out of our house?"

Stiles didn't look up at him, instead moving on to the windows.

"Salt has had a strong significance in a lot of different religions for millennia. Salt being used for the specific purpose of repelling spirits originates from Buddhism, where salt is used to purify and sanctify a place and ward off evil spirits-"

"Okay, okay, it works," the Sheriff laughed, cutting off Stiles' rambling. "And what's with this?" He held up the flask.

"Oh, that's holy water. It's been purified and if the Dybbuk _does_ get in, which he won't, you just throw some water at him and bam!" He finished, waving his arms around for emphasis.

"Bam?"

"Yeah, it hurts spirits. So it'll stall it or repel it."

The Sheriff stared at the flask, expression indistinguishable. "Right..."

"Don't worry, it works. Deaton's used it before."

Stiles moved onto the kitchen, bordering the windows there too. The Sheriff stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame.

"And what am I going to do when I need to go to work?" The Sheriff asked him, smirking. He didn't fully trust the salt, and he wouldn't rely on it to save his or anyone else' lives.

Stiles stopped and looked up at him. "Salt your office too, then."

"I can't just salt my office. Parrish may understand, but having a line of salt in my doorway and on my windows may not help me keep my job."

"Your life matters more than your job. Just take some time off; you've been working non-stop for months."

"I need a job to support us," he counteracted.

"I can get a job to help," Stiles offered.

"Nope. I want you focused on school, and with the Supernatural crisis on top of that, a job isn't something you need right now."

"I could handle it," he replied with a shrug.

The Sheriff shook his head. "Focus on school, and... y'know, saving the world, or whatever it is you do."

Stiles laughed.

*** Anonymous ***

_He was dreaming again, images and voices filtering through his head. He was seeing the Dybbuk's memories again, and it scared him that he was the reincarnation._

_That he would become the Dybbuk._

_"There's something I must tell you, if we are to continue being with each other," she said._

_They were back in the forest, the only place they went together. No one went to the forest, so they were always alone. The forest was old and otherworldly. And they liked it that way. In the heavy shadows, spiders clung to strings of web, their lacework glimmering in the moonlight like silver. It was nearing nightfall, and the moon was beginning to shine through the leaves._

_He looked at her, confusion alight in his eyes. "What is it?" he asked, taking her hand._

_He knew nothing could deter him from her, he loved her too much for that._

_"It will be too difficult to explain to you. So... I will show you."_

_He nodded and let her guide him to a small clearing in the trees, their feet crunching over fallen leaves. The moon was now brighter than when they'd first entered the forest, and it cast shadows of leaves over her face._

_"What is it you wanted to show me?" He asked, looking around the clearing curiously._

_She let go of his hand, the warmth from her leaving him. She took a step back, hanging her head in shame._

_"What is it?" he asked._

_"I just want you to know, no matter what you see, I am still me. I am still your lover."_

_Fear began to creep into his chest at the words. "Of course I know that. What could you possibly show me that would make me think any different?"_

_Her lip trembled. "This."_

_She closed her chocolate brown eyes, and when she opened them..._

_They were yellow._

_***_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got some Supernatural elements in that chapter 😂😂 Hope it was okay, updates will be posted everyday for the next week.
> 
> Hopefully...


	4. Reluctant

After Deaton had received the threat, Scott decided they needed more help. Someone with more expertise in the Supernatural.

So, Scott, Stiles and Lydia decided to call Argent.

After much arguing, mind you.

Stiles didn't want to contact him, guilty about the death of Allison.

Lydia had disagreed as well, not wanting to bring the man back into this Supernatural mess so soon after his daughter's death.

But Scott insisted. They needed more help, specifically _his_ help.

So they agreed.

The phone buzzed as it rung, and they waited silently for Argent to pick up. After three rings, he answered.

"What?"

The three exchanged an anxious look at his sharp voice. "Argent," Scott started, "I'm really sorry, but we need help."

"With what?"

"A Dybbuk," Lydia replied.

Argent cursed. "Do you know who it is?"

Stiles huffed. "You really think we'd be calling you if we did?"

Scott interrupted the man before he could retort. "Do you know anything about them? Someone burned Deaton's Cabala books, and we have no other reliable resources."

" _Someone burn_ -? Who?"

"We're not sure, but they left a note. 'Don't meddle in things you don't understand.'"

"Any idea what that means?" Lydia asked.

Argent sighs. "No. I'll take the next flight up."

Scott's eyes widened. "No, Argent, you don't have to. We just-"

"Don't bother, kid. I'm coming."

He hung up with a beep.

They stared at the phone for a moment.

"Yay," Stiles said sarcastically. "This is bound to be fun."

*** Scott ***

The flight from France to America took ten hours, so the next day, Scott drove Stiles' Jeep to the airport.

Argent met him outside, Isaac beside him.

He didn't know Isaac was coming too.

"So," Argent said, taking a seat beside him, Isaac took up the back. "You've got a Dybbuk."

Scott hummed a confirmation. "We think it's someone close to us, that much is obvious."

Argent nodded thoughtfully as the car rolled forward.

Scott took them to the bunker that held Argent's supplies. Isaac jumped out, throwing him a casual salute, and Argent followed. As he was exiting the car, Scott saw a glint of silver in his belt.

A gun.

The handle was engraved with patterns and there was a Latin inscription on the side.

It wasn't unusual for Argent to have a gun, of course, so he said nothing.

He drove back to Stiles', the gun forgotten.

*** Stiles ***

"Isaac's back too?"

"Yup," Scott replied, sitting down. Lydia was still there, and Malia and Kira had joined them.

They spent the next hour or so theorizing who could be the Dybbuk, who had been acting different, or suspicious.

They hadn't gotten far, but they had a few suspects on Stiles' crime board.

They were just about to give it up and start studying for an upcoming calculus test when Stiles' phone rang, his father's ID appearing on the screen.

He picked it up and answered.

"Hey, dad, what's up?"

"Is the Pack there?" The Sheriff asked immediately.

" _Yes_ ," he replied suspiciously, drawing out the 'e'.

"Put me on speaker."

Stiles complied. "You're on."

"Okay. So, we got a case. I think it's Supernatural. It's a kid who goes to your school, Zach Reyes."

Stiles knew Zach. He was in his economics class. They used to be partners when Coach got sick of his and Scott's shenanigans.

"What happened?" Scott asked.

"He was found in the forest with a spike through his chest."

He said it with such... _finality._ The end of something, the end of a life. It made Stiles shiver. 

"What makes you think it's Supernatural?" Kira asked, a sick look on her face.

"Yeah," Malia said, "anyone can stab someone."

Lydia and Kira gave her a look. She shrugged.

"There's no footprints around him, or anywhere else in the forest. Its pretty muddy out here too, so there should be some somewhere. There's also the part that Zach was found on the Nemeton."

Lydia cast a worried look to Stiles, and he returned it.

"We'll be right there."

*** Scott ***

The four of them met the Sheriff in the forest. There was still blood staining the wood on the Nemeton.

Scott and Malia took a look around, seeing if they could smell anyone other than the scents they knew.

"I don't smell anyone else. Do spirits have a smell?" he asked.

Stiles shrugged. "Sometimes. If they're possessing someone, or if they have something to keep them tied to the living."

He nodded, impressed. Stiles seemed to know a lot about this all. He wondered where he kept all that knowledge.

They were about to leave, believing this was, in fact, the Dybbuk, when Scott paused. There was something... faint, but he knew that scent.

Argent.

A glint of light shined in his eye like the missing piece to a jigsaw puzzle, just like in the car when Argent was getting out.

He looked around for the source, and found it.

Up above, in the leaves, was the indisputable shape of a gun.

Argent's gun.

***

The dropped the gun on the table, crossing his arms expectantly.

Argent stared, confusion washing over his face.

He reached out, picking it up and examining it closely as if it were an imposter.

"Where did you find this?"

"Don't play dumb, Argent," Malia replied coldly.

Argent looked up at her. "Who are you, again?"

Malia huffed but didn't reply.

"Why was it near the Nemeton? It was in the leaves of a tree."

"I couldn't tell you," he replied coolly. "I had it this morning, and I haven't left the bunker since."

Scott glared at him, trying to find any hint of a lie in his expression. Listening to his heart wouldn't be good enough, the Argents were trained to keep their hearts steady.

He didn't find anything, but there was something that didn't sit right with him.

"Kira, Malia, do you think you could stay here?" They both nodded. "Good. Keep an eye on him. Me, Stiles and Lydia will go talk to Deaton."

*** Anonymous ***

_"You hate me now, don't you?" she asked.  
_

_They sat on the damp grass, each on opposite sides of the clearing._

_Ever since she'd shown him..._ that, _he'd said nothing._

_His lover was a werewolf._

_"No, I do not."_

_There was hope in her eyes at his statement, dampened by doubt._

_"Do you fear me?"_

_He sat on that thought. Did he fear her? He knew her. He spent every night with her. They shared all their secrets, shared all their dreams._

_He knew her._

_"No."_

_"Are you mad at me?"_

_She kept this secret from him. All this time, she'd lied about why she couldn't meet him during daylight._

_But he felt no anger._

_"I am not."_

_She bit her lip, nodding. The next question she asked was asked with a new fear, her voice trembling._

_"Do you accept me?"_

_He said nothing for a few minutes. This girl, his lover, was a werewolf. A 'monster' in the eyes of the Argents, the richest and most known family in their town. To think otherwise would be an act of betrayal to their town, their home._

_But this girl was the love of his life._

_"I do."_

_She stared, seemingly shocked at his truth, before a smile lifted her lips and she ran into his tender embrace.  
_

***


	5. Repercussions

###  *** Kira ***

"Isaac, what do you think about all this?"

Malia was in the next room over, watching Argent while she tried to find something. To prove Argent innocent, or guilty, she wasn't sure.

He licked his thumb and turned the page of his book lazily. "Don't know, don't care."

"Seriously?"

He just shrugged, not looking up.

Kira groaned. "Helpful, Isaac. Really helpful."

He flashed her a grin and returned to his book.

*** Scott ***

"That is suspicious," Deaton agreed when they told him about the gun, about Argent, and about Zach's horrible death.

Deaton seemed deep in thought, and Scott wished he'd hurry up. Stiles was practically jumping up and down in impatience like he was about to explode.

"The Dybbuk is someone close to you," he continued, his words painfully slow, "but it is not Argent."

Lydia sighed, running a hand through her hair. "This is getting out of hand. We need to find out who it is soon, or it'll be too late for us to do something."

"But how?" Stiles asked. "We have no way of knowing unless the Dybbuk is an absolute moron and does something obvious to give himself away. Which I highly doubt."

Deaton raises an eyebrow but didn't comment. "They will be revealed in time. Until then, we will just have to keep our eyes open and be ready. I am taking a trip to one of my old acquaintances. She may have a book that can give us more information."

"How long will it take?" Scott asked.

"A few days, hopefully no more."

He nodded. They could manage for a few more days.

"What do we do until then?" Stiles asked.

"There is nothing _to_ do but wait, I'm afraid."

Stiles groaned, annoyed, expressing exactly how Scott was feeling.

*** Lydia ***

The next day, they all went to school as if there wasn't a vengeful spirit on the loose, threatening the lives and safety of everyone in Beacon Hills.

The Pack spent the day sending suspicious glances at everyone and watching there every move, searching for a lead.

But everyone seemed normal.

Every _one,_ that is.

But there was some _thing._

Lydia was slightly disturbed that no one else could see it. It was like when Stiles was seeing the Nogitsune everywhere he went; only visible to him.

There was a dark shadow, watching her without fail.

_Always_ watching. 

She saw it everywhere. 

In class, in the cafeteria, and it was even starting to follow her home.

She was haunted by a shadow, and she didn't say a thing.

Maybe it was her unpredictable Banshee powers, trying to tell her something?

Or maybe she was just going crazy- if she wasn't already.

So, she ignorrd it, she carried on, head held high and shoulders back, as if she wasn't scared.

As if she wasn't terrified of a shadow.

*** Stiles ***

He sat down across the table from Lydia, dumping his tray on the table.

Scott was still I'm class, talking to a teacher, and Kira was waiting for Malia, who was in detention for writing 'ridiculous' answers on a pretest.

It wasn't long before he became suspicious of her behaviour, frantic eyes and tense shoulders.

"What's wrong?" He asked. 

Lydia blinked, confusion or embarrassment on her face. He couldn't tell. "Nothing. Why?"

'Because you've been looking back at that empty corner constantly for the past five minutes."

Lydia shook her head. "I'm fine. There's nothing wrong."

Stiles rested his chin on his palm. "I know you're lying."

Lydia pursed her lips. "You just have to be so perspective about everything, don't you?"

He smirked.

Lydia sighed. "I swear to God and all things holy, if you tell Scott about this-"

"Scout's honour," he interrupted, crossing his finger over his heart.

"You're not a scout."

"It's about the intention, not the lie."

She huffed, exasperated. "I keep seeing a shadow."

She waited for him to reply but he didn't, letting her continue.

"It's everywhere I go. It's always watching me."

"And it's in that corner?" He asked, nodding his head to the side.

She nodded.

"Well, speaking from experience," he said, and she looked down guiltily, "don't let it scare you. Don't acknowledge it. Its not real. It can't hurt you."

She nodded but didn't look convinced.

He reached out, taking her hand. She didn't pull away. "Don't let it get to you. It's tricking you."

She cast another look to the corner, before she nodded again, looking down at her lunch determinedly.

Stiles smiled.

*** Scott ***

Scott left the classroom with a huff. 

Mr Ninnes, though one of the best teachers he'd had, was starting to drive him up the wall.

Scott made his way to the cafeteria, looking around around for his friends.

He spotted Stiles and Lydia sitting together, and began to make his way over when he paused.

Stiles reached across the table and took Lydia's hand.

Scott smirked. _Finally._

He walked right back down the hall, unable to wipe the grin off his face.

*** Anonymous ***

_He fell into the dream as soon as his eyes closed._

_They ran through the span of trees, hands joined and fingers interlocked._

_His heart thumped in his chest and his legs burned with energy._

_The wind blew in their faces, her soft, brown hair whipping behind her._

_Her eyes found his, and they both smiled, their legs moving faster._

_They were running_.

_Running for freedom, running for happiness, running for each other._

_She'd told him the Argents will hunt her. That they will hunt him too if he is with her._

_But he did not leave._

_He will never leave her._

_They jump over roots, leap over fallen trees, and their hands stay glued together._

_With her, he was everything he wanted to be. With her, he held the whole world in his hands._

_With her, he felt love, openly and freely, and they would forever be together._

_This is it._

_This, running away together, for the safety of one another._

_This is was love is._

_***_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter because I can’t help myself


	6. Redeemed

***Scott *** 

The wait for Deaton's return passed in an agonisingly slow blur.

They all felt the doomy gloomy cloud of oncoming evil, and they all kept their eyes down, hopeful to outlast it for another day.

When Deaton finally called them, there was a hint of relief in their anxious anticipation.

"The solution, or solut _ions,_ I should say, were quite simple. Quite obvious."

The Pack, with an addition of Argent and Isaac, were all squished into the clinic med room, surrounding the table in the centre.

"Do you want to maybe, hurry up?" Stiles asked Deaton, who couldn't hurt to be just a bit faster with his presentation.

"The first way," Deaton continued, ignoring Stile's interruption, "is to perform an exorcism. I believe you would take kindly to this option when compared to the second. This is a transcript of the ritual.” He placed a copied printout of what looked to be from a book down on the table. “Now, the second option would be to kill the Dybbuk’s body. Since the body he is in is still just a human reincarnation, they can still be killed-“

“We’ll take the first option, Scott said, taking the transcript from the table. Deaton nodded.

“To perform the exorcism, someone must keep the Dybbuk distracted while another says the ritual. I’d suggest making sure whoever is reading it is protected; spirits know when they are being exorcised.”

Everyone nodded.   
  
“Good. Whoever reads it will most likely need to repeat the ritual until the spirit is gone.”

“I’ll do it,” Lydia said, taking the script from Scott and reading through it. “I don’t think Banshee powers are going to be helpful on this one.”

“Okay,” Scott agreed. “Stiles, you should stay either her, and Mali’s too.”

They each nodded.

“Derek, Kira, Isaac and I will distract the Dybbuk,” Scott continued. “I take it that it’ll be ready for us?”

“Most definitely,” Deaton confirmed.

“Okay. And Argent, watch our backs?” Scott received another nod.

“Good.”

***

The problem soon arose that they still didn’t know who the Dybbuk was. And with that came the inability to perform the exorcism.  
  
They still needed to know who it was.  
  
Scott was in his bedroom, getting ready to turn in, when his phone buzzed on the bedside table, alerting him of a call.

He picked it up and answered when he saw Stiles’ name.   
  
“Dude, I know who it is,” Stiles blurted before Scott could answer.

“You do? Who?” How the hell had Stiles figured it out.

“I’m driving to your house now. I don’t think I should say now; I feel like I’m being watched.”

Scott’s blood ran cold. “Watched?”

Stiles huffed. “Yeah, Scott, y’know, the act of _watching_ someone.”

“Dude, I know what you mean. Who’s watching you?”

“I would’ve told you if I knew. Hold on, I think I see something...”

“See what?”

*** Stiles ***

The sun had set hours ago, and Stiles was left driving alone on the dark, abandoned roads with Scott on the phone.

“I would’ve told you if I knew,” he said, his phone wedged between his ear and his shoulder as he turned a corner.

A light flashed on the road a few hundred metres ahead of him, catching his attention, but he couldn't see the source of it.

“Hold on, I think I see something...”

He dropped the phone down on the passenger seat, deaf to Scott’s reply. Stiles squinted in the dark, slowing down when he approached where it had been.

But it was gone.

A loud screech sounded on the his left and all he saw was two bright headlights speeding at him before it hit his Jeep and his world was turned upside down.

*** Scott ***

As soon as he'd heard the phone smash, Scott had been out the door, speeding though the streets until he'd found Stiles.

Now, he sat in the waiting room.

Stiles was in hospital. He'd been run off the road, a massive dent in the side of his Jeep. But there was no evidence to show what had happened- well, no _official_ evidence, anyway.

Scott had already figured out what happened.

Stiles knew the Dybbuk’s identity, and it didn't want Stiles telling anyone who they were.

So the Dybbuk got him out of the way.

Scott had called Lydia, and she’d rushed to the hospital and sat with him.

Hours passed, spent fidgeting and worrying, and they still couldn’t see Stiles. The Sheriff was allowed, being family, and had told him he was okay, but still asleep.

It filled Scott with a burning fury that Stiles had been hurt in the first place.

And he wouldn’t let it happen again.

*** Anonymous ***

_They sat by the lake, hidden by the thick of trees surrounding them._

_They sat by the lake, opposite each other, their ankles touching for a source of comfort._

_They sat by the lake, together, in a comfortable silence brought on by exhaustion._

_After a days running, they stopped for food and rest._

_She passed him a handful of berries and bread. Their hands brushes against each other as he took it._

_Her hair flew in the wind, and she_ _tucked it behind her ears as it got in the way of her sight. It never ceased to amaze him, how beautiful she was, how stunning,_ breathtaking. _He couldn’t take his eyes off her._  
 _  
When she looked up, she saw he was staring._

_“What is it?” She asked._

_“I have a confession to make.” He got up, moving to sit beside her, their hands intertwining. He stared at their hands, a shy smile on his face. “_ _I think I want to marry you.”_

_A grin tugged at her lips when she looked at him. “What a coincidence. I want to marry you to.”_

_Under the moonlight, their lips met and he vowed to love her for eternity._

_***_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this chapter sorta sucked 😂 and it’s late, but we’ll ignore that... any guesses as to who the Dybbuk is?


	7. Revelation

*** Scott ***

The voice reached Scott like an echo, familiar, yet so _not._  
  
He knew that voice. But... didn’t.

_“Scott.”_

He tried to look through the foggy haze that surrounded him, but it was too dense to see a thing.

“ _Scott_ ,” the voice repeated, dragging out the ‘o.’

The voice sounded closer, and he turned toward the source of it.

A footstep sounded behind him, and he whipped around to see nothing.

“ _Scott_!”

He turned again, again and again and again, but it was everywhere now, surrounding him, suffocating him like the fog.

“ _Scott_.”

The voice was a near whisper now, and when Scott turned around once more, there was a dark shadow, clear against the grey fog.

“ _Let’s play a game, shall we? I suppose I’ve already started it though, considering what I did to your friend yesterday... your move, then, Scott.”_

His move? What was he supposed to do? He didn’t even know _who_ they were.

The fog dissaperated, and as it did, he felt more awake, more aware.

“ _Your move,”_ the voice whispered, disappearing with the fog it hid in.

Your move.

***

Scott snapped back awake, finding himself back in the uncomfortable chair in the waiting room. He found Lydia’s suspicious eyes on him.

“Just a dream,” he said, rubbing his eyes.

“Right,” she replied, obviously not believing him. She said nothing else nonetheless.

There was another minute of silence before she spoke again, hesitant but determined. 

"Scott, I think... I think we should do the exorcism without Stiles."

Scott nodded slowly. "I was thinking the same. He'd be pissed that he couldn't help, but I agree."

Lydia smiled slightly. "I'll go get the ritual. And I called Deaton while you were asleep. He says he may know a way to lure the Dybbuk out."

Scott took out his phone and obliged, nervousness twisting at his stomach.

They were going to win this.

*** Lydia ***

Lydia entered her room, making a beeline for the desk where she'd left the ritual, folded neatly inside a book to hide it.

But, to her surprise, when she opened the book, the paper was gone.

She spun around, scanning the room.

Her mother couldn't have found it. She was at work, and she wouldn't randomly open the exact book the ritual was in.

There was no sight of the page.

She ran downstairs, searching the house, lounge room, dining room, kitchen-

There.

In the kitchen, in the _sink,_ sat a pile of ash.

She didn't need to investigation further to know what it was from.

There was a note on the counter.

' _Try again.'_

*** 

Lydia handed Deaton the paper without a word.

He read it and didn't look surprised.

"The ritual was burnt?" He asked.

She nodded. "I've been at the hospital all night. I found it in the sink when I went home."

"I was expecting this. The transcript I gave you was a copy. This," he said, handing her another page. "This is the real one."

Lydia smiled, relieved. "Brilliant."

*** Scott ***

Everyone was here. 

Lydia, Malia, Kira, Isaac, Argent, Derek. 

Everyone but Stiles, who was still in hospital with his father.

"So, how do we lure it out?" Scott asked Lydia.

Lydia took out a small can, filled with what looked like mountain ash.

"I'll perform another ritual."

He nodded, unsure. 

Lydia smiled reassuring, pouring a large circle around herself. Then, she looked down at the page and began to read.

" _Hi tibi gratias ago pro reprehendo in im usque fragmen quisquiliarum."_ The wind began to whistle, and Scott took it as a sign the summon was working. " _Ego vere scribam nescio quid tam temere temere temere. et non molesti nec ut reprehendo sicco quid frigus, qui scripsi hanc interpretari. Hi sunt."_

The wind stopped suddenly; the eye of the storm.

A voice broke through the on brought silence.

" _You've summoned me. Good move. But now, now it's mine."_

A thump sounded behind him, and Scott spun around to see Argent hit the floor.

Isaac howled, and no one heard a heartbeat.

Argent. Allison's dad. The man he'd learned to fight beside.

Gone in a second.

Scott's fear turned to fury.

"That's a cowardice move." He accused, barely managing to conceal his rage.

The Dybbuk laughed, the sound hollow. "Two down, six to go."

"Show yourself!" Derek growled.

"Scott," Isaac whispered. Scott turned. Isaac looked devastated. "Scott. I lost Allison. Now I've lost Chris." He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I'm out." 

"Isaac, wait!" He tried to call out, but Isaac was already disappearing into the trees. 

The Dybbuk chuckled again. "Three down, five to go."

"How do we get him to show himself?" Kira hissed. "We can't do the exorcism unless he shows himself."

Scott looked up at the sky, unsure of where the Dybbuk was.

"You're a coward. Show yourself!"

"Are you sure you want that, Scott?"

Scott glanced at Lydia, who nodded, ready.

"Yes."

The Dybbuk laughed. Then, he came out, showing his face for the first time.

Scott’s heart stopped.

No.

The Dybbuk smiled at his shock.

It was his friend.

It was his brother.

It was Stiles.

“Hey, Scotty."

***

_They were running, the sound of guns and pounding footsteps chasing them._

_She tugged his hand, trying to make him run faster, but his legs were already aching and his lungs were heaving._

_"Hurry!" She cried, fear filling her eyes._

_But he knew this fear was not for herself._

_"I don't think I can go much further." He slowed down, and she stopped with him. "Go on, I will hide. Maybe they will not kill me. We can meet another time."_

_She shook her head. "They will hurt you. They won't let you go."_

_A shot rang closer and she flinched._

_"Please, just go," he begged her, and there was nothing but hesitance in her eyes._

_"I can't leave you."_

_He held her face in his hands. "You must."_

_A bullet landed in the tree right behind her, and it seemed to finalize her decision._

_She ran, a promise on her lips._

_"I will come back for you."_

_She was out of his sight in seconds, and he climbed the tree behind him. He'd climbed trees before, escaping his angry father, or school enemies._

_He hadn't climbed trees escaping guns and hunters._

_He hadn't even made it halfway up when his arm erupted in pain._

_He lost his grip, falling to the forest floor with a thud._

_The air was knocked out of him, leaving him choking for a breath._

_The hunters found him quickly._

_"Where is she?" A man said._

_He'd never tell._

_The man seemed to know this. "Get rid of him. He won't help."_

_A gun was cocked and his heart beated faster than he thought possible._

_Whoever held the gun pointed it at his head, and he squeezed his eyes closed. He waited._

_A roar bellowed through the forest._

_No._

_She came back._

_"Over there!" Someone yelled._

_They all followed the sound of the roar, leaving him alone on the ground._

_He sat up, ready to chase the hunters and lead them back away from her when a hand grabbed his shoulder._

_Spinning around, he came face to face with..._

_Her._

_She smiled. "I'm safe. Let's go."_

_Before she even turned around, however, another shot rang out._

_He didn't even register someone coming out from the trees, a triumphant smirk on their face._

_She fell to the floor, and he caught her, sinking down with her._

_He held her hand, trying to pretend the blood already soaking her dress wasn't real._

_But he was not one to deceive._

_"Hold on, okay?" He whispered, his hip trembling. "It will be alright."_

_She smiled, reaching up to take his face in her shaking hand. "It's okay. I love you."_

_Her hand fell, her smile fell, and her chest fell as she exhaled her last breath._

_No._

_The hunters had returned by then, cheering on the man who had shot her._

_The man who had killed her._

_"Well done, Gerard."_

_He brought her body as close to his chest as possible. He mourned while others celebrated around him._

_Celebrated._

_It filled him with a hot rage._

_He didn't feel pain anymore. He didn't feel sadness._

_He felt a bitter anger coarsing through his veins._

_He wanted revenge._

_***_

_The Dybbuk was awake._

_And he was back._

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Silence_Will_Fall was correct. I just didn't want to say until this chapter 😂  
> Also I know I kinds skimmed over important bits all throughout this story, but writing's hArD 😂


	8. Revenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LAST CHAP WOOP WOOP

"Stiles?"

Stiles smirked, shoving his hands in his pockets. "The one and only."

Scott was speechless. What could he say, when his best friend was the thing they'd been trying to defeat all this time?

"I don't understand," Kira said, eyes wide. "The car-"

"I faked it, Kira. It's not hard for a spirit to redirect a truck, really."

"What about the Sheriff?" Malia asked, bearing her teeth.

"He's fine. He was asleep when I left."

"You killed Argent," Lydia said, her hands shaking. "Did you kill Zach too?"

Stiles smiled, shrugging.

Scott hated this. He hated everything about this. Seeing his best friend like this... It scared Scott to the depths of his core.

"Why didn't you tell us?" He asked, the betrayal he felt seeping into his worse. "We could've helped!"

Stiles' smile disappeared, replaced by an uncontrolled rage. "Don't you get it? Not everything can be fixed by will and a true alpha status! You can't bring her back! No one can!"

"Bring who back?" Derek demanded.

"It doesn't matter anymore. Nothing does. Nothing but revenge on those who killed her." Stiles pointed to Argent's body.

"This isn't the way," he argued, praying this was a dream. This wasn't real. Stiles was still the friend they all loved. He was still _Stiles._

"I'm the dybbuk, Scotty! I'm a dead sinner! This is the _only_ way."

"No! It's not! Just let us help," he pleaded.

Stiles was seething. "I lost her, Scott. I lost her! I won't stop until I avenge her!"

"Lydia, start the ritual," Malia begged, looking torn between Stiles and Scott.

Lydia nodded, mumbling the exorcism.

As soon as she started, Stiles shifted, eyes focusing on Lydia.

"Now, what have you got there?" 

Lydia didn't stop. She didn't even look up, staring determinedly at the page.

Stiles took a step forward, but Kira and Derek stopped him getting any closer. 

Stiles growled, the sound not right to Scott.

He should be human. He shouldn't be caught up in this. 

Stiles let out a scream of rage as Lydia continued, his hands twitching.

He lifted on, flicking it to the side, sending Kira flying into a tree.

"Stiles, stop!" Scott yelled.

Derek ran at the spirit, but he didn't make it far before he was thrown away, too.

Lydia began to speak louder, seemingly hoping it would make this all go faster. It seemed to be effective, as Stiles screamed again.

Malia ran forward as Stiles approached them again, but there wasn't much need. Stiles fell to his knees and let out a furious roar.

That's when Scott saw him. Saw Derek, creeping up behind Stiles.

Even if he'd called out a warning to Stiles, he seemed to focused on Lydia, trying to stop her.

"Derek, stop! We can save him! We just have to-"

"He's done enough damage. I'm not letting him do anymore."

Scott tried to run forward, to stop him, but Derek's claws were already embedding themselves into Stiles back with a sickening _squelch._

It was as if time slowed, only for him to watch the brutal death of his best friend.

His brother.

Stiles choked, his breath halting. Blood specked his lips, a define contrast to his drastically paling skin.

Stiles fell.

Scott had never run faster.

Scott's knees slid across the hard rocks and dirt, calling Stiles' name.

His eyes were open, blinking. _Alive._

"Stiles, oh my God, Stiles, just hold on. We'll get-"

"No." Stiles looked up at him, defeat in his eyes. But there was something else... _Hope_. "Leave me. I... I can see her again."

Scott stared at his best friend, the same defeat flooding through his veins.

Stiles.

He couldn't describe the pain he felt. His Stiles, his best friend, was dying.

His brother was dying.

Was this even his brother anymore?

He didn't want Stiles to be in pain, he didn't want Stiles to die, but when he tried to take his pain, he pushed him off.

"What was her name?" Scott asked, his voice shaking. He wanted to distract Stiles, distract him from the betrayal and pain and fear and sadness.

Distract him from his end.

Stiles said one last word, spoke one last name, and took one last breath.

" _Millie_."

***

Now Scott understood. Stiles just had to be where _she_ was.

***

_He remembered her._

_He remembered, sitting in front of the dancing candle, their hands joined and smiles shared._

_He remembered, her beautiful brown hair, whipping in the wind as they ran through the forest together._

_He remembered, her loving eyes, staring through his own like they could see into the depths of his soul._

_He remembered her._

_Now he could be with her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. I know this sorta sucked, but I enjoyed writing it 😂 Thanks for reading his far!


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